“The last pony who made fun of me still can’t chew properly,” growls the minotaur, standing up with both his hands on the table and looking firmly at Three.

“Awww, sorry to hear that,” replies Three with genuine concern, “But hey, now you have more stew to share with him. I think that the lunch lady might even give us a sippy straw if we ask nicely.”

The minotaur glares, clearly as completely stumped as the rest of the cafeteria.

“Ummm...” Three looks around, finally coming to the conclusion that something isn’t as it should be, “I really mean it,” he raises the bowl up, “I can’t eat it, and you’re huuuuge, so your portion can’t be enough. I can give my bowl to the pony with bad teeth tomorrow too, so that you can have fun together again.”

“I broke his jaw.”

“Whaaaat?” Three’s eyes go wide, “Why would you do that? It’s so nasty outside with all the darkness and cold and everyone being super scared. If someone’s making fun of you in these sad times, they’re trying to make you laugh. It means they care.”

“Are you really that idio-” the minotaur stops. For some reason, the beaming yet puzzled face of the comparatively tiny changeling just doesn’t let him finish the sentence, “-that oblivious?” he softens the blow in the end.

Three chuckles, scratching his head.

“Yeeeah, I don’t know too much about stuff, especially the surface. Miss Gem and boss didn’t let me too far away from the hive on my own for a loooong time. Now I’m trying to help ponies get some proper food since the sun is gone, but we had a misunderstanding with mister Shiny Armor and we ended up here. Speaking of we,” Three raises his voice, “Hey, did anyone here see a nervous changeling mare with brown mane, tail, and that hard extra bit we changelings have around our barrels? She doesn’t bite and she’s really nice, but she gets scared easily.”

The minotaur’s eye twitches. In theory, the changeling is a pile of chitinous paste on the table, even with no wardens actually approaching yet. However, that theory is for some reason refusing to become an action.

Without really knowing why, the hardened criminals look around just in case they spot the mare Three’s looking for. As the silence continues, Three sighs and says:

“Nevermind then. Thank you very much for trying,” he looks at the minotaur now glaring at him with mouth open, “Oh right, sorry. I’m not gonna bother you further, the stew is getting cold.”

Humming to himself, he he hops off of the table, and trots back to Magpie staring at him with an expression of absolute incredulity, thus mirroring the entire cafeteria.

“How are you not dead?” whispers the griffon.

“I’ve been dead once. It’s dark and boring,” Three shakes his head, “I like being alive a lot more. That way, I can read all the books miss Gem brings me, I can listen to all the stories about everyone’s adventures on the surface, and the best part - I can hug all of you warm and squishy creatures,” he wraps his forelegs around Magpie’s barrel as well as his shackles allow him.

Rolling his eyes, Magpie wraps his wing around Three, and resumes eating, fully aware that he would have to be even more on guard now that Three decided to be his friend.

I’ve made a friend today. Two friends, I mean, although I don’t know if mister Magpie counts, because he’s a friend of miss Gem and any friend of miss Gem is my friend too, so he’s technically been my friend for a while already even though we’ve never met face to face before today. He looks and sounds pretty grumpy, but if miss Gem likes him enough to travel around the world with him then he must be the best kind of goodie. The second friend is a minotaur, although I don’t know his name yet. It turns out the prison story books were right - if you go to the biggest guy you find and show dominance, you’ll be okay. I mean, I’m not sure what dominance means, because the only thing I can recall is miss One wearing this black rubber suit and running around with a riding crop, but I think my way was better. Besides, I don’t have a crop or a black corset, and it wouldn’t look good on the minotaur anyway. On boss? Sure. On miss One? Amazing. Miss Gem? No doubt in my mind. But I think mister minotaur would just look silly.

I’m a bit worried about Thirteen, and I hope she’s okay. I’ve seen few mares here too, so she might have found someone easier to talk to than all those pretty scary-looking stallions.

“Exercise time! Get out the bed, you lazy asses,” the mean warden’s voice echoes through the prison hallway, immediately answered with voices from the cells varying from excited to angry, “It’s cold and dark outside, but that’s no reason for you to stay inside where it’s warm only due to the taxpayer money.”

Three’s immediately pressed against the barred cell door, smiling from ear to ear.

“We can go outside?!”

“Yaah!” the mean warden jumps when faced with Three’s mouth open wide to a degree that no other creature can achieve.

The smart warden walking behind him speaks up as his colleague heads down the hall, unlocking the cells.

“Not ‘can’, you must. The inner courtyard is filled with equipment for exercising, and you get a chance to socialize a little. Would be pretty stupid to, after you’ve served your time here, be let out as a total sociopath. Though most of these guys end up here because they are one in the first place.”

“Neat,” Three walks out of his cell, but the smart warden stops him with a poke in the chest.

“Leave the book and the pencil here. I don’t know how you keep getting it back, but leave it here for now. Several prisoners can be extremely dangerous with a sharp object within range, both to themselves and to others.”

“But what if I want to write into booksy?”

“What if a psychopath suddenly rips a pencil out of your leg hole and rams it into the eye of a pony next to him? Do you want that?”

Three shakes his head so vigorously it blurs, rushes back, puts the journal and his ever-sharp under the thin blanket, and pats the tiny bulge with the words:

“I’ll be right back, maybe with a story about how things are going outside.”

With that, Three rushes out of the cell and into the long line of prisoners escorted by several wardens.

“You are, without a doubt, the strangest prisoner I’ve ever had.” says the smart warden.

“Really? But I’m just a drone, that’s all. I’m not even that smart. You must have had some proper evil geniuses here. Like Mane-iac or Doctor Octohoof.”

“What or who are those?” the smart warden furrows his brows, “I’ve never heard either of those names.”

“Those are from comic books. Really old ones, I mean.”

“From pre-corruption era, I assume. You did say you were over two hundred years old. You don’t feel or look like it.”

“I moisturize,” Three grins.

The smart warden snickers, shakes his head, and leads the line of shackled prisoners through the complex.

The courtyard is big enough to comfortably accommodate the hundred-ish prisoners currently being unshackled in a boxed off area separated from the rest by a chain-link fence. Obviously, there’s no light coming from the sky, so the area is dark and gloomy, lit only by four big spotlights on the walls and numerous lamps scattered around.

“Yaaaay!” Three runs off as soon as he’s unshackled, hops into the air, and starts buzzing around.

Several pegasi are doing the same, enjoying the freedom for however long the outside time lasts. Three flies up higher to be able to spot Thirteen, because darkness isn’t a concern for changelings.

Talons grab his barrel, and pull him down a little.

“Hi, mister Magpie,” Three looks at the griffon holding him, “I’m looking for Thirteen.”

“Don’t fly too far up. There’s a magic barrier that will shock you, and dropping like a rock from this height isn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks for the warning. By the way, can you see Thirteen?”

“I can barely make out shapes where there isn’t direct lighting, much less identify a changeling,” he feels Three take a deep breath, and puts his second set of talons over his mouth, “Don’t even think about calling for her.”

“Mmmh?”

“Look, just trust me on this, okay?” Magpie looks Three in the eyes, “Don’t draw attention to yourself. You got lucky today in the cafeteria, but there are some real assholes here who will enjoy tormenting a little changeling like you the whole time you’re here.”

Three softly bites Magpie’s talons who lets his muzzle go.

“I can take care of myself… most of the time,” he pouts.

“And if they can’t get to you, they’ll get to anyone who might be your friend, understood? Can Thirteen take care of yourself as well as you can, hmm?”

That makes Three frown and, after a moment of thought, nod.

“Can you help me find her?”

“I’ll do few laps to stretch my wings, and then I’ll see if I can spot her. You just don’t do anything stupid or too flashy.”

“Alrighty,” Three nods, and flies downwards when Magpie lets him go.

No one seems to be paying him any attention, since ponies and all other creatures are busy either chatting or getting any exercise they can. A high-set monkey bar nearby is currently being used by the minotaur from the cafeteria doing pull-ups. With a smile, Three joins, flies up, grabs the bar with one foreleg, and begins pulling himself up with ease.

Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.

The minotaur huffs and drops.

“Hi,” Three waves at him with his free foreleg, not stopping his pull-ups, “Have you seen Thirteen, by any chance?”

“No. Buzz off,” the minotaur frowns, “I need space for a wide grip.”

“Oki!” Three resumes aimlessly floating around the courtyard.

After some time of circling by the walls, hoping that Thirteen would be hiding in the shadows, Three hears:

“Hey, changeling, down here!”

A group of six unicorns is sitting on a bench and looking at him while one waves at him to come down. Seeing no obvious downside, Three lands in front of them.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” the speaker of the group examines him, “We saw how you stared down the big guy in the cafeteria. We could use somepony with balls like that.”

“I don’t have balls, mister unicorn. Drones don’t need them most of the time. I mean, Six and Five do all that bedroom stuff a lot, I think. Miss One showed me the basics, but I haven’t found anyone else to do that with.”

The unicorn blinks in confusion before shaking his head.

“Nevermind, I mean that if you need some friends in here, we’re the unicorn brotherhood. We can get you cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, and we can make sure no one tries to touch you in the showers.”

“Sure,” Three nods, “It’s always nice to have friends. Can you get love crystals too? I mean, not for me, but Thirteen is bound to get hungry, and getting love here won’t be that easy.”

“Of course,” the unicorn smiles, “However, if we help you, you need to show your allegiance to us. A little… proof that you’re on our side.”

“O-kaaay?” Three tilts his head.

“First, you need to wear the proper colors to that everyone knows you’re with us,” he turns his cheek, his horn flashes, and red markings appear on his face, “Magic-sensitive paint.”

“Yay! Can you make me look like a kitty?” Three hops up and down in excitement, “Boss always says that I sleep on his back like a cat anyway.”

“No!” hisses the unicorn, “That mark is one from the ancient times when the world order was as it should be. Unicorns ruling the damn birdbrains and mudponies.”

“Fiiine, but just because I want everyone to be friends...” frowns Three at the unicorn’s choice of words.

“Good,” the unicorn nods to the others, “Colts?”

Three of them quickly walk over, pull out a pouch from somewhere, and trace several lines on Three’s face.

“Step one, complete,” the leader nods, “Now for the real business to take care of. That minotaur beat up an associate of mine, and I want him to pay for it.”

“Oh, the guy who needs a straw to drink soup?” everything finally clicks into place for Three.

“Exactly,” the unicorn chuckles, “To prove you’re our friend and for help in making sure your changeling lady friend’s stay in the prison is… tolerable, you’re going poison that cow brain.”

As Three immediately opens his mouth with a horrified expression, the unicorn raises his hoof.

“You wouldn’t want us to make sure little scared Thirteen’s stay in this prison is unpleasant now, would you? We can do that too.”

Author's Notes:

Seriously, who would have ever guessed Three would be in a prison gang?